


Untitled...{3}

by LoriLeopard



Category: personal ao3
Genre: Not a fic, don't really have a place to put this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:56:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25663996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoriLeopard/pseuds/LoriLeopard
Summary: Not necessary to read. Looking to put my nighttime thoughts 'on paper' so to speak.I have nowhere else to post stuff like this. Not entirely sure where this will go. And so it is.
Relationships: Redacted - Relationship





	Untitled...{3}

**Author's Note:**

> 12:46am

"My flow's not great okay,  
I conversate with people who know if I flow on a song I'll get no radio play.  
And while you're doing fine,  
There's some people and I,  
Who are having a really tough time getting through this life so excuse us while we sing to the sky.

I'm standing in front of you."

Lyrics from a 21 pilot's song. My mind on repeat like a cd I'd have easily burned in highschool, if I was 10+ years younger than I am now at the time of this publication, and if limewire was still around. Listen to YouTube took forever. Simpler times really.

They all come through so fast, bullet trains, nearly passing the station. Then off again, slipping into the void just outside the confines of my skull. Tonight is particularly manic. I've exhausted all my resources. Melatonin 30mg. Why they add B6 to the recipe is beyond me. Really counter productive. 

I don't want to be a bother. The entire household is dreaming. Little ones in their beds, my partner out cold next to me while I tap away at these small keys. Illuminated by the blue light filtered screen on my phone. Yes, I thought of that too. Would you believe me if I told you just before giving up, I had been laying here a solid 4 hours in silence?

You shouldn't. The AC is on, thankfully drowning out the volume of the quiet. Since about the age of nine, I can distinctly remember this loud, jarring, mind canceling noise. Normally just after laying down, in a room without any recognizable source of the tone. Like a gong, warming up before that final BANG in the center.

I remember my mother, untucking my hair from behind my ears. "You don't want spiders crawling in there at night"  
"Hey mom?"  
"Yes baby what is it?"  
"What's that loud sound? The one I hear at night? Right in my ears."  
"That's the wind. Yeah, that's just the wind coming through cracks in the walls. It's okay."  
Bull. I didn't believe that,, not for even a moment, I couldn't. I knew what sounds wind slapping up against a house could produce. Plenty of movies and tv shows played that out whenever they really wanted to hammer home the velocity of whatever weather was going on in the program. 

No. Rather, this was the moment I realised I knew more than the people around me, regardless of their age or relation to me. On the surface I accepted this answer, rolling over onto my right. After she closed the door carefully so that gentle click of the latch didn't wake my kid sister, I tucked my hair back behind my ears. I've always had such an issue with my face being even remotely covered, the hair had to be contained in order to relax at all.

I laid there. Immobile under the weight of the tone. I may have been young, but I was always a huge science geek. That, and mathematics. I eventually went on to take every single opportunity my school district had to offer that allowed me to further those passions. This night however, I tried to use those skills to deduct what's been happening to me. For one, I noticed this happened primarily at my mothers house. She lived in a bottom portion of a mother/daughter, her land lord inhabiting the top half on the weekends. I shared the room with my sister. This made watching tv at night to nullify the ear splitting sound simply impossible. Not in this house. I had a much larger space at my fathers. Essentially no rules or restrictions on my screen time and the noise was few and far between. On the other hand, nothing physical was causing the problem. If it was just as possible in an empty field as it was a gridlocked suburban area, then location was simply ruled out. I couldn't possibly have hearing loss or tinnitus, at nine. I had passed every hearing test I've ever taken, flying colors mind you. 

I believed in a physical reality. That things, while definitely able to appear magical and mystical, have a tangible reason that explains the effects. This sound is that of two tones, two notes on a scale, fighting for dominance. I was a flutist and sang in choir. I understood staying in tune and on pitch. We would practice arpeggios and "popping the note" where when proper ascending tones are sung in harmony, another unsung higher pitch emerges. That's the best means I have to explain the friction here. The waves of sound would creep up on me. It was hard to tell where hearing them ended and feeling them began. The frequency itself was causing not only sonic ripples, but physical motions as well. My ears would swell with this feeling. Almost equal to an extremely large and needed yawn, how it shakes your ear drums while you drop your jaw as far as the hinges allow. Two notes, both ears, so loud you can't even scream. The noise would become a prison, by which sleep was the only release.

Twenty years later, I still hear it. I still feel it. If not for that AC unit of mine, my mind would be begging for it to steady itself, and go. That's all it seems to want to do. Yes, the tone in my minds ears. Spend twenty years with anything and it will personify over time. It creeps up slow. And begins it's dissonance to it's cold uncaring beat. I've come to learn to keep it steady, and let it swell and fade as it needs. I only ever had two choices. Suffer, or come along for the ride. Obviously, I chose the more insane route. What's the saying? I don't suffer from insanity, I embrace it?

Something like that.

**Author's Note:**

> 1:51am


End file.
